


a little persuasion

by dyules



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyules/pseuds/dyules
Summary: Persuasion AU. Five years ago, Dimitri left for the sea. The last time he’d seen him, he’d given him his heart, and Felix broke it into pieces.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 19
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (you may notice i dropped most titles by two ranks!... because dukes are too politically important and frankly not too interesting! pls enjoy!)

"Have you heard? Rowe Hall has been let," Annette laboriously pulled a thread through her embroidery, glancing at the figure swinging a rapier across her.

Felix continued with his drills - left foot, breathe, a swing - riposte. Rowe Hall had stood vacant since its former master’s spectacular fall from grace, its vast fields and once-famous garden falling into disrepair. The ton said it was drink, but Felix wasted no time on other people’s misfortunes. He had no interest in which promising new merchant bought the old house, but decided to humor Annette. "Another family with an overabundance of children, I presume."

"No, Mercie - Lady Mercedes," Annette corrected herself with a blush and a shake of the head, her red hair flying. Felix did not mind, but he knew Annette's father did. He pivoted and lunged with quite some vehemence, picturing Gilbert at the other end of his sword.

"Lady Mercedes mentioned a captain, by the name of Blaiddyd."

Felix whirled around to face Annette, the point of his sword tracing a dangerous arc over the girl’s head, startling her into dropping her needlework. "Felix! Oh you-"

Felix wished he was on the receiving end of his rapier instead.

-

Loud laughter followed by a soft tittering filtered through the drawing room doors, where Felix had been pacing feverishly for the past half hour. It could only mean one thing - the Gautier heir carousing with the housemaids as was his wont. Felix had half a mind to wrench the doors open and to rebuke him, when it suddenly opened inwards on its own accord. Without even waiting for an announcement, the young Lord Gautier flounced into the room ahead of the butler.

"Felix!" the wretched man called out, as the Fraldarius butler declared with disapproval, "The Lord Gautier."

Felix waved him away as he turned to face his friend. "What brings you here?"

"Dimitri's back," Sylvain all but twinkled at him, roguish grin set on his lips. He moved across the room, delicately shedding his lambskin gloves. The haphazard fashion with which the gloves and a riding crop were thrown down a sofa still afforded them a deliberately artful effect. How very Sylvain, Felix thought.

"And what do I care if he's back," Felix asked in response. He’d had enough of people entering his house only to deliver the unwelcome and frankly unfortunate news as if he was steadfast Penelope by her loom. Ingrid and the professor had both visited separately and demanded to tell him what he already knew - that the man he rejected five years ago has decisively crawled back to England's shores.

"Have you not missed him?" A genuine lilt flavoured Sylvain's voice, as he himself dropped beside his gloves and crop. "It's been five years."

Felix knew. Felix had not stopped counting the days throughout the intervening years, and had painstakingly charted the boar's course based on the rumors heard and the letters he sent to his childhood friends. He never once received a letter.

Well, if that attested to the depths of his affections, then Felix had nothing to atone for.

"I'd much rather he remained at sea. Are there no more rats to feed on in his ship?"

Sylvain sighed, brushed a hand through his delightfully styled hair. "That's below you, Felix." Was that disappointment - Was Sylvain disappointed in him of all people -

Sylvain put up an ungloved hand to silence the venom about to spout from Felix's treacherous mouth. "Last year, I practically begged you to come with us and visit him in Nassau. You didn't go. Don't make me beg again."

It was futile to complain because he knew Sylvain would drag him into whatever reception they had planned for the boar's return to civilization. And on that night, it was also futile not to notice that the boar had grown taller, his hair grown longer, and his eye no longer looking at Felix as though he held his heart in his hands.

-

For that’s what it was, wasn’t it. The man they called Captain Blaiddyd barely even acknowledged Felix except for a tight nod towards his direction, which might also have been for Mr. Ubert beside him. Ashe was all smiles. Everyone in Lúin Park was all smiles, welcoming back the ghost of a long-dead man. Felix felt inclined to stab something.

It was not just the missing eye. He’d heard about it in one of the letters sent to Ingrid - a moment’s distraction, a pirate’s blade, a month’s rest in Boston. It had sent him into a paroxysm of worry he was not even aware he was capable of anymore. As with all things, the feeling had passed, until he was confronted by the spectre of the living once more.

Safely ensconced in an alcove far removed from the madames searching for son-in-laws, Felix watched as the man received platitudes from the other guests. There seemed to be no end to it, old friends, tutors, mere acquaintances and even the Lord Mayor herself. The man brought guests of his own, both naval captains - Captain Molinaro and Captain Kirsten, eliciting excitement across the ballroom. He observed as Sylvain escorted them around, introducing them to various young people, most of whom listened with enraptured faces as they were regaled with stories from the sea.

He heard voices float from nearby.

“- dashing, and the eyepatch becomes him!” said a female voice quickly and quietly.

Her companion giggled, replying to her with “And so tall and mysterious! How very like one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s heroes!”

The two voices collapsed into more excited giggling and Felix rolled his eyes. He was just beginning to contemplate moving to another alcove when the first voice gathered herself enough to say, “I heard from Lord Gautier that the Captain is to be awarded a medal for exemplary conduct by the Queen herself! And that he is invited to all her parties-”

“Wouldn’t that mean he is a particular friend of Her Majesty? Only, Mama has told me that he is a titled lord of great fortune as well, and in want of a wife.”

Felix bristled, wanting to hear no more of this fawning conversation about the boar. He was saved, by Annette’s arrival.

“I believe you promised to stand up with me for the waltz.” Annette was fairy-like in her muslin gown and lace trimmings, her fiery hair done up with delicate stones arranged in star patterns. She smiled up at him kindly.

Raising an eyebrow even as he extended a hand to ask for her own, Felix said, “How peculiar for a lady to invite the gentleman to dance.”

Annette coloured a bright red at his teasing, placing her hand on his and pulling him along to the center of the ballroom. “Oh, dash it, Felix! You’d forget otherwise!”

“Dash it?” Annette sputtered some more at the reminder of her unladylike outburst, to Felix’s delight. Perhaps the free-flowing wine had loosened her tongue. Felix had not yet touched a drop, preferring instead to keep his senses about him for the evening.

“You’re my favourite person, Annette,” he said truthfully, as the band started playing, before he looked to the couple at his left and saw the boar staring right at him.

Felix looked away - he disliked that accusatory blue stare, but he disliked holding anyone’s gaze for more than a moment anyway. It wasn’t special. He wasn’t special. Easy enough to avoid him among the dozen couples on the ballroom floor. He wasn’t a particularly good dancer, but his fencing background and Annette’s enthusiasm more than made up for his lack of skill. Together they weaved through the crowd in time with the music, stopping when the band paused. He left Annette on a sofa while he went for some lemonades, only to come back to a tall blond man conversing with her.

An anger filled Felix that he did not feel entitled to. After all, it was him that did him wrong.

Annette, on the other hand, was all wide, excited eyes. “Oh, Felix, Captain Blaiddyd has been telling me you are acquainted!”

Said captain’s steely eye settled on Felix. Felix did not bother parsing if any emotion had flit through that face as he handed Annette her refreshments. “We were in Eton and Oxford together,” he said curtly.

“But that’s barely an acquaintance! Childhood friends, perhaps?”

“No,” Felix answered, just as the captain said, “Yes.”

Both looked at each other then, Felix with some trepidation. He was lying, of course, having known Captain Blaiddyd before he was a captain, before the house fire that claimed all that he had loved and drove him to the sea, back when all they knew were rolling fields of green and summer rain. Almost all his life.

“Ah,” Delicate Annette, worriedly sensing something amiss, pulled the conversation another way. “Captain Blaiddyd asked for a dance, but I’m afraid my card is full. I really am so sorry, to turn down an honored guest’s application!”

The captain turned back to her with more gentleness than Felix can imagine. “Do not concern yourself, Miss Dominic. Lovely as you are, I should have known your dance card to be full.” He bowed to her then, and mustered a small smile that sickened his other observer.

Annette blushed prettily at his praise. “Perhaps another time, then. For now I must leave you, as Mr. Ubert is approaching.”

True enough, Ashe arrived with a greeting and bore her away for a country dance. Thus left standing, apart from the other revelers, a deep silence enveloped the two men, both unwilling to speak, Felix awkwardly handling a glass of lemonade in one hand.

To be beside the man he’d unwillingly dreamt of for years was almost unbearable for Felix. Five whole years and it still felt as raw as it did that cold, wet December day - his soaked overcoat weighing him down, wind and rain lashing down like an omen, that hopeful look before the end. The last time he’d seen him, he’d given him his heart, and Felix broke it into pieces.

Fate makes fools of us all, Felix thought as the option to leave presented itself.

“How is your lord father,” the man a few paces beside him inquired, a nicety to fill the silence. “And Glenn?”

“There is no need for false politeness. You cannot mean to be civil with me,” Felix snarled, turning away to find a footman upon whom to foist his half-full glass. He had no obligations to any other lady for the rest of evening, and as he had primarily gone as a favor to Sylvain, he cannot be faulted for departing early. It was about time he left.

“Felix, please.” Exasperation suffused that arresting voice, even as Felix paused. “I would have you know I hold you in no contempt. The fault is mine,” he said simply.

Angered once again, Felix whirled and almost flung the lemonade across his face. Only the knowledge that it was shockingly bad ton kept his fingers fast on the glass. “N-no contempt? Foolish of you! I know what I’ve done, and I would rather you treat me accordingly, or not at all, boar.”

If Felix expected to shock with the odious nickname, the other man betrayed no emotion, and only lowered a steadfast eye on him. He offered a hand in his quiet manner. Felix could have slapped it away.

“Let us be friends. It would please me like nothing else.”

“Do not look to me for your pleasure, for I have none to give,” and with this missive, Felix turned sharply, shoulders tense, knuckles white with barely concealed rage.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few days, Felix busied himself with the vagaries of managing an estate as large as Arianrhod. With his lord father on a Continental Tour, and his viscount brother off with his regiment somewhere in the Peninsula, it had fallen upon the younger Fraldarius son to recompense the downstairs staff, attend to long-term tenants and oversee the building of stables for their newly-acquired horses. Not that Felix was an admirer of them - for although he holds his seat well enough, he cannot be supposed to derive enjoyment from the beasts. His interests veered towards more martial pursuits, frequently occupying his time in practicing fencing, and when in town, attending lessons in Jackson’s Boxing Saloon. As a youth, he had been mad for colours, but as his obstinate and reckless brother was set on a cavalry regiment of his own, despite being heir to an earldom, Felix had been awakened to the inanity of chivalric ideas.

Running the estate and keeping it in working order for the duration of his pater’s absence was not much of a nuisance for Felix, as he had found in his steward a worthy fellow, and in himself a natural talent for it. But sooner or later, Glenn would have to manage on his own, and as such was a point of irritation with his younger brother. God willing, their father would live long enough to instruct his heir, for Felix cannot be exhorted to stay on as his brother’s land agent through the next generation!

It was with this and various incidents in mind that Felix found himself in the library of the great house, writing correspondences to the steward. The long-term tenants near the Downs had the misfortune of failing crops, and measures were needed to provide for them until the next harvest. He also needed to consult with the head groom about hiring a farrier and undergroom before the horses arrived from god-knows-where.

Felix looked up as the butler opened the door. “What is it, Chaffer?”

“More invitation, sir,” the inimitable personage replied, handing over a handful of cards which Felix glanced through in disgust. “The, hm, Captain also sent over flowers with his regards.” he continued meaningfully.

“The devil he did!” Chaffer, being accustomed to the young master’s sharp tongue since his infancy, blinked not at this exclamation. Instead, he ventured to remark that the flowers, honeysuckle and jonquil, were placed in the small parlor. Only his decades of service to the Fraldarius family kept his face free of embarrassment - he never thought the Captain so bold in his intentions! As with all butlers in his position, Chaffer abhorred gossip, but it was well-known among staff that the Captain once sought out Master Felix’s affection. It would seem as though five years had done nothing to temper this desire! Chaffer could only be glad that the young master was unconcerned about flowers and their meaning.

“Let it rot there, for all I care!” The young master frowned petulantly, creasing his graceful brow. His dark hair was done up and framing his sharp features loosely, and it moved Chaffer to see him almost a double of the Earl in his youth. The blood was strong, as evidenced by the dozens of portraits in the picture gallery depicting members of the noble line through the ages.

Reflecting that the housekeeper would never let flowers rot under her care, Chaffer said, “Very good, sir,” before being dismissed.

Felix obstinately spent a few more minutes writing letters before giving in and reading through the cards again. A picnic, a couple of balls that he would decline, and there it was - an invitation to dinner at Rowe Hall.

_Captain Blaiddyd requests the_  
_Pleasure of **The Hon. Felix Fraldarius** ’ Company_  
_to dine on **Saturday** next, at three o’Clock._

_An Answer is requested._  
_**Aug. 15th** 1811_

It was only to be expected for the Captain to reciprocate the kindness shown to him by hosting a dinner at the Hall. Easy enough to decline the invitation - surely there was enough society to make up the numbers without him. In truth, Felix did not feel up to the task of seeing the Captain again. It has unnerved and unmoored him ever since news of his return, and Felix would rather stay on solid ground. Flinging the card down in distaste, he pulled a fresh one towards him and began to write a reply.

The ink had barely dried before the butler came in with another announcement. “The Lady Mercedes and Miss Dominic are in the drawing room, sir.”

“What is it now?” Bemused and somewhat frustrated, Felix made his way to his visiting friends, adjusting his neckcloth before going in.

“Ladies,” Felix said by way of greeting, observing them having tea. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Annette piped up immediately. “Oh, Felix, wonderful news!” she paused over her steaming cup of tea, eyes shining. “You received the card, have you not? Mercie and I have been going visiting and the Captain mentioned sending them out.”

Felix inhaled rather sharply, hand stilling over the cup he was pouring. “ - the dinner invitation? I did receive it.” Eyes darting suspiciously over to Mercedes, he continued, “Quite early in the day for house calls.”

“Not too early,” Mercedes smiled at him in that serene way of hers. “As there was no lady of the house, Dimitri merely needed help with the dinner placements.”

Felix had once been stabbed, entirely by accident, in an ill-advised excursion during his Oxford years. He almost felt that searing pain through his abdomen again, at the casual use of his name, and the mention of a lady in the house. Knowing it was jealousy only thoroughly soured his mood.

Mercedes was aware of what happened five years ago, and Felix knew she knew. He had never known Mercedes to be cruel, and yet --

But Mercedes was still looking at him kindly, and perhaps, with pity.

“The Captain was such a gentleman, and he was very grateful for Mercie’s help - for you understand, Felix - being away that long, he hasn’t had opportunities to host a dinner, especially since he is not entirely familiar with the families here,” Annette prattled on. “I tried to help as well, although I am sure I made a mess of things - but we had a grand time in the big house!”

Mercedes’ sweet laugh tinkled. “I am sure Dimitri appreciated your help, Annie. You even solved where to seat Felix!”

“Where to seat _me_?”

Annette rounded on him, placing the expensive china precariously on her knees. “Nothing to fear from madams, dear Felix. The professor is coming, and since the Lord Mayor will be beside the Captain, you can sit next to her! Mercie will be on your other side, and you’ll be comfortable.”

“Annie has put a lot of thought into it,” Mercedes said pointedly, as though predicting what Felix was about to say next.

Felix sighed. “You need not have bothered yourselves over it. I had no intentions of going.”

Protestations erupted from the expected quarter, which he bore with some dignity, while the other party sat frowning at him in disappointment.

“But if you don’t go, the party will be oddly-numbered! Please, Felix! Besides - ” Annette stopped, cheeks coloring and gaze flitting between the other two.

Mercedes spoke first. “We hope you reconsider, Felix, for there is one more favor we have to ask of you. You see - the vicar Mr. Pronislav has gone to town with the carriage, and is expected to stay there until next week, with no provisions for his only daughter’s safe transportation! We can only ask you to be Annie’s escort for the day.”

The deeply-ingrained dislike for Gilbert Pronislav flared within Felix, but he pushed the instinctive feeling aside to ask, “And is there any reason why the Lady Mercedes cannot escort Miss Dominic?”

“Martritz Manor is too out of the way, Felix! Why, it took Mercie’s carriage close to two hours to fetch me today, and I cannot, in good conscience, impose upon her kindness again!”

“There, there, Annie,” Mercedes patted her friend’s hand. “We’ll find another way should Felix decide not to come. We cannot impose on his valuable time, as well.”

Annette turned to him with eyes full of reproach, and Felix felt himself powerless, bending to their will. The vicarage was indeed but a fifteen-minute ride away from Arianrhod.

“Very well,” Felix did nothing to hide his consternation. “On one condition.”

“Oh! What is it?” Annette was all smiles.

Felix nodded towards the upright piano in one corner of the drawing room. “Sing for us, Annette.”

-

Saturday arrived without much noise nor fanfare, despite the awful dread creeping through Felix’s veins like poison. He had resolved to remain civil and affable, mostly for Annette’s sake. _If only the boar would display his scorn appropriately._

What was it that he actually wanted?

With Annette in his carriage as promised, they followed the winding road up to Rowe Hall. The gardens outside the once-grand house were sadly overgrown, thickets of unchecked shrubbery spilling over fences and vines ravaging its stone facade. While an attempt was made to clear the road for carriages, Felix’s man still had to coax the horses around detritus a couple of times. Coming upon the house, Rowe Hall’s severe facade did not invite wonder, but fear of possible hauntings.

 _The ghost of a boar_ , Felix thought. Nevertheless, warm light poured out of its windows, and the hum of conversation welcomed the two as they entered the drawing room.

Annette eagerly engaged with the other guests in attendance, while Felix’s eyes swept through the room, determined not to make contact with the host. He found him standing near the fireplace, surrounded by admirers. Run of bad luck.

Felix crossed to a place farthest from him, where he was accosted by a laughing Sylvain.

“I must say,” his libertine friend declared, “I did not expect to see you here. If I was a betting man, I would have fifty quid in you running off to town instead.”

“You are a betting man, Sylvain,” Felix scoffed. “To whom did you lose to?”

“That is a delicate matter, for it is - _a lady_.” Sylvain laughed again, as Felix’s expression soured. “I believe I must give my regards to her, and her winnings, for such a delicate operation!”

Felix could feel his anger boiling. “Sylvain, if you mean to make a fool out of me-”

“Hell, you’re too smoky by half! Be at ease, and try to enjoy yourself.” Sylvain had the audacity to reply, abruptly leaving towards where Lady Mercedes was conversing with Captain Molinaro.

Had Felix not been certain that Annette wasn’t in on this scheme at all, he would have just turned and left. That bird-brained Sylvain was capable of anything, but Mercedes too? To think he thought of them as _friends_!

He was saved from darker imaginings by the arrival of the Lord Mayor, who was already slightly inebriated. Her wife, their old professor, accompanied her to greet their host, just as the butler announced that dinner was served.

As guests filed to the dining room, the captain’s gaze found Felix where he lingered behind. He graced him with a polite nod, which Felix did not return. With fewer people in the room, it was harder not to notice him, the martial set of his shoulders and the noble line of his thighs. He was Apollo and Felix couldn’t stand to look. Instead, he walked briskly away, the back of his neck prickling, staunchly averting his eyes from the sun.

-

Dinner was thankfully a calm affair, with no excitement other than Sylvain talking across the table at his leisure. As their host had no objection, proceeding instead to direct a question towards Ingrid across him, the dinner soon proved to be a more casual affair. Felix, on the other hand, confined his conversation to the professor and Mercedes by his side. The professor relayed her studies on a new species of fish that she recently discovered, confiding that the Royal Society approved her grant for continuing examination. Conversation with Mercedes remained a bit strained for his part, but the lady made no comment on it. After an hour reminiscing her days as an opera star, the Lord Mayor acquiesced to honoring them with an aria, and it was decided that the ladies would withdraw to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port.

Felix, for his part, chose to forgo the port and escorted the ladies to the drawing room.

As the ladies settled into their settees and conversations, Felix found himself wandering off to an adjoining room, which to his surprise, proved to be a trophy room. It was no wonder that Rowe Hall’s gardens were in such an unkempt state, for the polish and luxury of the wood-panelled room suggested that the master of the house spent most of his time perfecting it.

On one wall hung swords of varying lengths and origins, blades burnished and glowing in the dim light. Felix was mesmerized. He did not need to drop his handkerchief on them to know that they would slice through it effortlessly. On another wall was a collection of armaments, guns and rifles, and even a single bow and arrow. He vaguely wondered about the history behind it. Attached above the doorway he entered through was the largest fish Felix had seen - perhaps a particular gift from the professor.

Felix glimpsed a Japanese katana displayed in a glass box in the center of the room. He had seen one in an exhibition before, a curious one-sided blade from a secluded country. He thought he would like to wield it, to test its balance. The boar must have been trading with the Dutch.

On another glass case beside it was a small dagger, whalebone and silver. It looked to be of quite ordinary-make. Felix looked closer, _perhaps it is a poisoned dag-_

“Oh,” a voice he’d recognize in his dreams rang out behind him. “You’re here.”

Felix whipped towards the doorway, where a tall man stood hesitating, as though he did not own the house and the entirety of this room.

“I apologize for intruding,” Felix, abashed despite himself, started to remove himself.

The captain raised a hand to stop him, “Pray, do not inconvenience yourself for my sake. I only wanted - ” He stopped, dropping his eyes. Felix watched as he breathed in, taking one step as though heading towards open water.

 _You are the inconvenience_ , Felix thought, as the other man drew closer, his traitorous heart racing faster than any rational thought.

He felt rooted to the spot, even as the captain stopped on the other side of the glass case. “This is the dagger that took my eye.”

The shock of those words pulled Felix’s eyes up to the face he’d been avoiding for so long, only to find him looking directly at him. It was still the face he knew, that he’d memorized. The same straight nose, the same strong jaw, the same lips. But a different blue gaze, one not so warm, and not so welcoming. He found his hand halfway to that face before he stopped himself.

The captain was also looking at his hand. Felix placed it on the glass case instead. “And you display it? How gruesome.”

“It is a reminder. Not to lose the other one,” the captain added humorlessly.

Felix scoffed, but stayed looking at it. “Small enough to be a letter opener.”

A silence filled the space between them, echoing in its loudness. Felix heard a soprano from the next room, and was briefly frustrated that the host would leave his guests alone. He made no move to join them, however, the lure of sharp metal still drawing him in.

Across him, the captain was handling a small wooden box. He opened it and offered, “Snuff?”

Felix glided behind the taller glass display encasing the katana, obscuring his view of the other man. “I don’t partake. Disgusting habit. You pick that up at sea?”

The captain let out a snort as he closed it. “I thought it was a polite thing to offer.” His large hand was sliding across the displays, following the direction Felix took.

Felix can see his hand on the other side of the glass. “Five years on a boat and you lose all social mores.”

“Perhaps I had none even before it.”

Felix hummed, continuing his slow movement across the room, towards another display of curiosities. What was he doing? His heart was still beating a mile a minute, and he had started sweating into his starched shirt. He should rejoin the others, not engage in this weird flirtation with the boar. Was it a flirtation? He reached a fascinating display of arrowheads, which he couldn’t focus on, for he found himself distracted by the man a lion’s leap away from him.

The captain made no move to draw closer, but spoke. “I understand you’re here as Miss Dominic’s escort. You are a lucky man.”

Felix, startled at this sudden turn of conversation, let out an undignified sound. “Wha-”

“Are congratulations in order?” The captain turned an inquiring eye at that, as Felix flushed to the roots of his hair.

“Miss Dominic’s heart lies with another,” he spat out vehemently, ducking to hide his heated face. He glared at one rusted arrowhead in annoyance.

He heard a small “Oh,” from across the room, followed by slow footsteps.

Emotions high, Felix threw back, “Perhaps it is you whose congratulations are in order? I understand Lady Mercedes is to be lady of the house.”

The footsteps stalled, as a laugh followed. “I owe much to Lady Mercedes. After all, she recommended Rowe Hall to me.” The footsteps continued, closer and closer. “Found me a solicitor and all.”

Felix, his heart beating against his throat, whispered, “Mercedes is very capable.”

“She is.”

Gleaming boots stopped in front of the glass case Felix was studiously observing. Cautious fingers found their way to its edge. The reflection of a tall, blonde man was caught in glimpses between wrought silver, cheap copper and tarnished gold.

“So,” the reflection said.

“So,” Felix echoed.

Felix met his eye in his reflection and straightened up, deciding to look directly at the sun. Barely a foot of glass separated them from each other.

Dimitri’s gaze was soft as he looked at him, a slight tremble in his voice. “Is it our fate, then, to form no attachments, aside - ”

What he was about to confess was interrupted by their own bosom friend, Sylvain, who ran through the doorway calling for the captain. “Dimitri? Dimitri, you promised to show us the dagger, _the dagger_ , wait, is that it?”

Spell broken, Felix retreated to the drawing room and stayed near Annette until she decided to leave for home. He barely remembered the way back, although he was quite sure Annette was talking for most of it. Arianrhod was cold when he got back home, but he felt hot all over, like he’d spent the day at a beach in Brighton. He proceeded with his toilette in silence, to the amusement of his valet, and threw back the covers, preparing to face a sleepless night.

-

A thank-you card arrived the next morning by post in Arianrhod. It was accompanied by a small dagger, whalebone and silver.

The card read,

_What looks not with the eyes, but with the mind?_  
_\- D._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine the scene in baz luhrmann's r+j but instead of fish it's all cool-looking swords
> 
> regency invitation card based on: [this](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f7/2d/ac/f72dac9720b313a35cb1bb53c33f3804.jpg)
> 
> thank you for the comments last chapter, they rly warm the heart!!! xox

**Author's Note:**

> i was hoping to post it in one piece, but this has been in the drafts for too long. updates will be very sporadic. apologies in advance!


End file.
